


In This Moment

by if_the_sun_sets_burn_it, In_Factorem_Verba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Language, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Slash, Slytherin!Harry, Under-18, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/if_the_sun_sets_burn_it/pseuds/if_the_sun_sets_burn_it, https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Factorem_Verba/pseuds/In_Factorem_Verba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is sorted into Slytherin, and Draco Malfoy is...well, Draco. Since they first met, hate blossomed between them, but once they get older, the lines blur a bit and hate starts to unravel into something much different.</p><p>_____________<br/>‘What do you think you’re doing?’</p><p>As a matter of fact Draco didn't even have a clue. Not how they got here, in there room, or on his bed…Or even how this ever started. This little routine. Of indifference and hating and fights, to this, this battle over dominance that they writhe in before the nights end, that only starts the cycle over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In This Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an RP between If_the _sun_sets_burn_it and myself.
> 
> This does have flashbacks mixed in, so it does jump around a little but i don't think it's too confusing. If it is please let me know and i will explain as best as i can.

__________________******Draco******__________________

 Hands abruptly shoved against Draco’s chest, tossing him backwards and he landed with a thump against the mattress and a soft moan. Before he could protest, Harry climbed on top of Draco, his thin form pinning him in place as his overly eager hands roamed his still clothed torso. More soft moans escaped Draco's mouth as short nails dug into the tender flesh of his sides.

“Potter, what _do_ you think you’re doing?” Draco snarled, flipping them over so he now straddled Harry’s hips.

Draco let his hands wander down Harry’s torso, one hand to his lower stomach and back up to his chest deft fingers quickly undoing buttons along the way, while the other snaked its way to his belt and tugging the shirt loose before palming against Harry’s erection. Holding himself up with his left arm, Draco leaned down kissing, sucking and nipping hungrily at Harry’s shoulders and neck, leaving behind a trail of small red marks.

His body seemed to be working automatically without his mind, as his head buzzed with rushing thoughts before they came to a sudden halt on his own words.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

As a matter of fact Draco didn’t even have a clue. Not how they got here, in there room, or on his bed…Or even how this ever started. This little routine. Of indifference and hating and fights, to this, this battle over dominance that they writhe in before the nights end, that only starts the cycle over again.

__________________******Harry******__________________

 'What do you think you're doing?'

Harry pauses, his hands on Draco's hips. What _is_ he doing? How--when did this even happen?

Did it happen when he wasn't looking? Had it happened when he first got thrown together with Draco Malfoy of all people? He'd gotten stuck with him as a roommate, and he was a right nightmare, he was. Always ignoring him, thinking he was better, never paying attention to Harry, and acting like Harry Potter was nothing but dirt beneath his expensive dragonhide boots. And then something changed. He doesn't know what, doesn't even know when, but it did. And now they fuck, and fight, and fuck and fight, and fight and fuck--it's what they do now. Tell each other things no one knows, whisper them into the hollows of their throats, scream it into the air when they rock together--they do these things for reasons they blame on their rebellious natures. What do they think they're doing?

Malfoy's hand finds its way to Harry's dick, closing around it and pumping it twice, leaning over to murmur filthy things into Harry's ear. "What is it you want most, Potter? My fingers? My tongue? My _cock_? Tell me."

A command.

But Harry can't say anything, can't even think right, because Malfoy is too close, too warm, this game is too dangerous, and it has to end--and how did it begin, again?

"Potter! One shouldn't ignore the person who has your dick in their fist."

__________________******Draco******__________________

 Draco skimmed through the crowd of students that were gathered in the oversized staircase. Pushing his way through the crowd Draco made his way to the front row, stopping and snarling with distain as he looked over a boy that stood just in front of him. Ginger hair, filthy _old_ robes…obviously a Weasley. Draco rolled his eyes and grimaced once more before gruffly pushing past the scrawny boy. At the very front and center stood a boy with messy black hair and rounded glasses, and off to his side there was a girl with hideously managed hair, bushy curls that stood out from her head.

Turning to face them, Draco got a better look at the trio. ‘Definitely a Weasley’ he thought scowling at the stupid nervous grin that sat on his abundantly freckled and dirt smudged face, quickly pulling his glance beyond the poofy mess of hair to the other boy, Draco’s eyes widened for a second after looking at his face, noting the scar just above his right brow.

“Harry Potter…” he mumbled under his breath in slight disbelief.

Crabbe and Goyle caught up and stood behind Draco huffing lightly the blond rolled his eyes again and stepped onto the landing directly in front of Harry, a smug smile resting on his lips.

“So, it’s true,then. Harry Potter _has_ come to Hogwarts. I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” He said extending his hand to Harry. “I can help you not make friends with the wrong sort.”  He said shooting a quick glare at the sniggering red-head.

Harry’s green eyes glanced to Draco’s hand then to the ginger before looking directly at Draco and telling him that he’d prefer to make those decisions on his own and in his own time. Draco wrinkled his nose and glared, mentally noting to make him regret ever turning him down.

__________________******Harry******__________________

 Harry Potter had never liked Draco Malfoy. He wasn't being mean; it was just a fact. He hadn't liked him when he first met him as a small, standoffish prick, his hand outstretched and waiting. He hadn't liked him even when they were placed in the same house, and had been forced into co-habiting the same room. It had always been a competition with them. Who could get the highest score in their classes, who could get the position of seeker first (Harry had, because he was obviously better), and when they had gotten into their fifth year, the stakes had gotten higher.

The competition started to bleed into everything and blur the lines, soon it was a competition of how much firewhiskey each could hold, how many pretty girls they could seduce and take to bed, how late they could stay out without getting caught by McGonagall, the damn bat, and maybe that's how it happened. Maybe their competitiveness (overpowering) bled into their relationship (nonexistent), and it only got worse when they were forced to do all their projects together as punishment after one too many fights in crowded hallways. Flying fists turned into bruising kisses which somehow turned into sex--and that was a competition in and of itself. Who could get the other off fastest, who could fuck best, who could fuck hardest, fastest--they never did figure out the winner. Still haven't.

Even now, as Draco's fingers trail down his body, leaving bruises to bloom in their wake, Harry doesn't know who's won and who's lost, because, honestly, what's the name of this game? And how does he stop playing? Draco's fingers are dangerous, just like his lips and his tongue and _he_ is. Too risky to let himself fall into this like he trips into everything else, violent and clumsy and _messy_. He can't let Draco do to him what he's always done--fuck him over in the worst ways possible.

__________________******Draco******__________________

 Draco shakes the distracting thoughts and questions from his head and continues his ruthless fondling of Harry, whom still seemed to not be paying a lick of attention. Draco shoots him a dangerous glare before slamming his fists down on either side of Harry’s head.

“Potter!” He snaps, his face mere inches from Harry’s. “Pay. Attention.” He grits as he threads his fist into Harry’s thick hair. “As much as I enjoy you being lifeless, now is not the time.”

Draco’s grip had traveled, and his nails dug into the nape of Harry’s neck eliciting a small groan from him. A wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He pulls Harry to an upright position by his hair and the back of his neck, as he swings his leg up and over to allow Harry to be moved. In one quick motion, Draco flips Harry, substituting the grip on his hair for a firm hold of Harry’s neck, pressing his face into the mattress. Leaning in close to his ear, Draco lets his full weight rest on Harry’s neck.

“Tell me… what you want Potter.” Draco hisses into his ear, his cool breath causing the prickle of goose-bumps to surge across Harry’s skin. Draco leans back, releasing the pressure on Harry’s neck as he presses and rocks against the round of Harry’s ass. “Choose, or I’ll pick for you.”

__________________******Harry******__________________

 Harry groans into the mattress, heart beating out of his ribcage. Draco traces a cold finger down his heated back, trailing dangerously close to the elastic of Harry's boxers. He doesn't know how to put into words what he wants, what he needs, doesn't know how to tell Draco to fuck him like he's worthless, fuck him like he isn't the Wizarding World's Golden Boy. He tightens his fingers around the sheets he has in a death grip, desperate to tell Draco what he wants to hear, what he wants Harry to say--but how? How can he, when what he wants is impossibly, totally, completely mad?

"Fuck me," he manages to spit out at Malfoy like the insults they hurl at each other every day.  
  
He doesn't have to see Malfoy's face to know the smirk that lights up his features, to know the way his eyes spark with the promise of something pleasurable--he doesn't need to see Malfoy to know what this does to him. Malfoy rocks his hips into the cleft of Harry's ass, and Harry can feel how hard he is through the thin fabric of his boxers. He can feel the thickness of his cock rubbing against him in ways that should be illegal. Malfoy's hands make their way to his shoulders, anchoring him to something as he begins to move his hips quicker, at a faster pace, and Harry lets out a moan when the fabric rubs against his hole in a way that makes him want to scream in frustration because _why_ is he not being fucked until he can't walk? What is this foreplay shit?  
  
"Want your cock in me, now."

Malfoy huffs a laugh and says breathlessly, "You'll take what I give you and like it."

__________________******Draco******__________________

 Pale fingers slip beneath the elastic band of Harry’s boxers, all but tearing them off. Tugging them down, pushing them past his knees and down around his ankles, letting them slip off onto the floor with the rest of Harry’s discarded laundry.

Taking his time Draco let his eyes trail down Harry’s body, drinking in the sight of every last inch of the body that lay before him, admiring the slight bruises that were blooming and whelps that rose across his body. Harry groaned and squirmed in Draco’s grasp, causing Draco to tighten his hold.

Another moan escaped into the otherwise quiet room, and Draco wasn’t sure who it had come from. He became suddenly and painfully aware of his own arousal. A smirk pulled at the corner of Draco’s mouth as Harry rocked his hips back, desperate for more.

‘ _So willing_ ,’ Draco mused to himself. Leaving one hand in the center of Harry’s back Draco sat back and began skillfully unbuttoning his shirt, before carefully placing it on the trunk that rested at the end of the bed. Draco traced one finger up from Harry's foot to the backs of his knees where he started tracing idle patterns, then working his way up Harry’s thighs, to the curve of his ass, before trailing to the insides of his thighs, and cupping at Harry’s balls. He continued up along Harry’s ass, stopping and abruptly pushing finger past the ring of muscle.

Leaning closely to his ear Draco kept his voice a near whisper, “Is _this_ what you wanted Potter?”  He didn’t give Harry a chance to answer before quickly inserting a second cold finger and curling them, pressing into that wonderful bundle of nerves.

__________________******Harry******__________________

 There's a panicky sort of desperation that's welling up inside of Harry. Draco is too close, his fingers searching, mapping out his skin, and Harry is _gone_ , so _gone_ for this boy, and--not for the first time--he wonders if he's gone mad.

Draco's fingers feel like ice, cold like the silver eyes that burn a hole through his back whenever they're in class. Draco's fingers feel like ice, snowy like Hogsmeade in the winter, pale hands fumbling drunkenly at his trousers in abandoned alleys. Draco's fingers feel like ice, frigid like the heart that beats just below creamy skin, tempting, tempting, way too tempting.

Draco's fingers feel like a red-hot brand inside of him, scissoring and opening him up for Draco's cock just like they've done so many times before. Harry is terrified, tormented by silver eyes that see too much of him, and blonde hair that falls into those eyes, and the _need_ , not want, _need_ to push it back so he can see clearly.

Clearly, though, seeing is something he can't do very well when it comes to Draco sodding Malfoy. His breath comes out in sharp pants, and he can feel Malfoy staring, staring, staring at him, never stopping, too calculated is he. Draco Malfoy will break him into a thousand little pieces, and Harry Potter will put himself back together when he leaves this bed. Or so he tells himself.

__________________******Draco******__________________

 Draco drums out an inconsistent rhythm on his desk as he glares at the group in front of him. He hasn’t even glanced at the sheet that sits atop his desk, he’s too angry, and he doesn’t even know why. He also hasn’t been listening to a word that Pansy or the professor has said. He doesn’t even care. The only things he can focus on are the three people in front of him.

Harry.

Ron.

Hermione.

The blond’s brows knit closer as he tries to understand his frustration. Yes he hates each of them but that’s never posed such a distraction before. Why now does is he having the worst urge to burn them alive. Pure, heated rage boiled beneath his skin, and maybe had he been in his right mind he would have frightened himself with these thoughts. Why did he choose _them_ to partner with for this? Sure the walking bush knew her material but she was a right twat, and Wesley? He can’t even tie his own shoelaces. Harry had no place with them. He breathed out a deep irritated sigh through his nose, his eyes boring into the back of Harry’s head.

His temper got the best of him, and he stood from his seat to walk across the classroom, cutting his path closely to Harry’s seat, allowing him to bash his elbow into the back of Harry’s head. “Mind yourself, Potter,” he snapped turning and shoving a hand against Harry’s shoulder.

“You fucking idiot.” Draco hissed under his breath.         

__________________******Harry******__________________

 He doesn't know why Draco Malfoy is out for his blood, except he does. Of course he does. Draco Malfoy is a jealous little shit who doesn't like to share. Draco Malfoy doesn't play well with others, either.

So when Harry decides that it would be a good idea to partner with Ron and Hermione instead of Malfoy and Pansy, he knew what he was getting himself into. Of course, his intention hadn't been to piss off Malfoy; it had been to get away from him.

Malfoy seemed to take up all of his time, nowadays. He was always around when Harry needed him not to be. He was always in their shared room, lounging on his bed, studying; they always seemed to be in the same classes, and partnered in all of them, thanks to their near-constant fighting getting them into trouble with McGonagall. Then there was Quidditch and of course they always see each other they are in the same fucking team!

Harry needed distance and quick, so when the opportunity came up for a change in partners, he gladly took it. The problem is, he wonders if it's worth living with a pissy Malfoy for the next couple of weeks.

__________________******Draco******__________________

 A sharp pang reverberated through Draco’s chest.  Everything hurt and nothing was making any sense anymore. He had always been in total control of himself, and most of everything that surrounded him. Except for one person.

Harry Potter.

He never did rein him in. Get him to see things his way. Sure he wanted to get back at him for denying his offer of friendship, but he never meant for things to get so out of hand. The drunken brawls leading to bruised fists and battered blood stained skin, or the occasional bout that ended in long periods of detention. _Everything_ they were involved in turning into a competitive fight over dominance and power. Or even him being so lost to this one _boy_.

If Draco were to be honest, he didn’t plan to do most of the things he did. Ever. It was all a foolish act of impulse that drove him. He hadn’t truly even realized that he had gotten out of his seat and knocked into Harry and then nearly tossed him to the floor until the professor’s shrill voice pierced his thoughts. Fussing at him for being out of his seat and not doing his work, and interacting with another group, and talking, and fighting, then threatening to give him detention for his behavior and frankly, Draco didn’t give a shit.

“Go ahead.” Draco snarled through gritted teeth.

‘Give me detention. Me being in detention isn’t going to solve anything, and it’s certainly not going to stop me from doing it again.’ He thought to himself as he pushed past the teacher without another word, and slamming the door hard behind him causing the room to rattle.

His head felt like a spinning top. Thoughts and memories and images flashing through his mind. He stopped a few yards down the hall and leaned against the wall, his fingers laced into his light blond hair gripping his head in a feeble attempt to soothe his aching head and quell his temper a bit.

It made no sense. Why should he care about it? It’s a stupid project, and Harry’s choice in partners shouldn’t matter, it was his loss.

Draco’s eyes went wide and his hands fell away from his face, his breathing shallow and rapid.

“No,” He murmured shaking his head slightly, “It can’t be…”

Panic set in, and his cheeks flushed and chest heaved; his fists shaking, balled at his sides.

“No…no. No, no, no, no, NOO!” He slammed his fists into the wall, his voice echoing in the hallway. “Goddammit Potter, why is it _always_ you,” his forehead hit the wall with a thud, “How is this happening…” slowly his body crumpled and he slid down the wall, dropping to his knees, while both of his hands still leaned against the wall, his emotion flickering between blind rage and breaking down into tears.

Draco still didn’t exactly understand. Not how or when this stupid game that they play started. He didn’t understand why he was so angry, and he definitely didn’t understand why everything in his mind seemed to be Harry fucking Potter. Draco was pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the soft click of a door and the sound of nearing footsteps.

__________________******Harry******__________________

 Fucking Draco Malfoy. Always getting him into trouble. Always starting fights that bleed into starting things that shouldn't have happened in the first place. Fucking Draco Malfoy, indeed. And of fucking course, Draco Malfoy decides that the Charms classroom is a wonderful place for a brawl. What did Harry even _do_? Nothing! Just sat there and did what he had to. Just because Malfoy can't seem to keep his sodding hands to himself--and that's when he notices the entire class is staring at him. He looks around, flushing beneath the weight of their eyes.

He murmurs a quick apology and packs up his things and leaves. He rushes out into the corridor and lets the door close quietly behind him. He walks briskly down the corridor, hoping to get to the dungeons before anyone else, and praying against all hopes that Malfoy decided to go anywhere but there because, honestly, he doesn't think he can face Malfoy. Or maybe he could. Maybe he'd fuck Malfoy and show him what it feels like to be humiliated. He could make Malfoy blush so prettily--and just as he thinks this day can't get any worse, he's stumbling over a person, and that person is--Malfoy. Of course it is.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, haven't you got more important things to do than lie around and get me killed?"

The prick smirks--actually _smirks_ \--and drawls, "Of course not, Potter. I live for nothing more than to spite your wretched life."

And why is it that Harry can't think of anything but slamming Malfoy up against the wall and snogging him until he's breathless and quiet and pliant beneath his bruising fingertips? Why is it that this boy--Draco fucking Malfoy--drives him so mad? Why is it that every time he looks at Draco it feels like his heart is trying to claw its way out of his chest? He knows the answer, of course he does. Just, well, why is it _always_ Malfoy?

__________________******Draco******__________________

  Letting his full weight rest against Harry's back, Draco continued to curl and twist his long fingers inside of him, watching Harry's body writhe as his desperate moans began filling the room. The throbbing in his pants had become nearly unbearable. He needed to be in Harry, surrounded by his tight heat, take him and fill him, feeling him from the inside.

Draco abruptly pulled his fingers from Harry, causing him to moan at the loss. His nimble fingers began frantically unclasping his belt and quickly undoing his pants before pushing them off of his hips and on the floor, releasing his cock from his trousers to stand freely in the cool air of the room. Goosebumps traveled across Draco's milky skin, and he shut his eyes and inhaled deeply as a shiver ran up his spine. 

He had always loved this part. Not be because of the actual act itself but because he was able to watch as Harry squirmed and flushed anticipating what he'd do next. Draco paused to survey the body before him before climbing back onto the bed behind Harry. Draco watched as Harry furrowed his brow and shut his eyes tightly, obviously expecting that he'd be taken without any further preparation. The blond smirked as he silently summoned a small vial of oils from the bathroom. Quickly pouring some onto his hand before biting back a moan as he stroked himself a few times to spread the oils. He slowly rocked his hips forward, pressing just a small portion of the head of his swollen member into Harry as a muffled sound caught his attention.

 'No'

 He furrowed his brow. "What? Did you just say something Potter?" He questioned irritatedly, thinking he must have misheard him.

"No, I...I-I can't." Harry mumbled.

 "What? What the hell do you mean?" Draco growled, his grip tightening around Harry's hips enough to leave bruises.

 "I just can't Malfoy." Harry mumbled again, this time attempting to wriggle free of Draco's grasp. 

Draco sneered, flipping Harry over and pinning him to the bed. "You do what I want you to do, Potter." 

"Exactly, and that's the problem. I can't do this." Harry said pushing Draco back, starting to move away.

"What? Why?" Draco snapped letting the offense seep into his tone as he jerked Harry back onto the bed. "How is this different than the other times? It's just sex, what's the matter with you. We fuck and-and then everything goes back to the way it was. Simple." Draco stuttered and stumbled, his voice becoming quiet with his growing confusion and desperation. His cock twitched, reminding him just how much he wanted to be in Harry. "Don't be a git."

 __________________******Harry******__________________

 On his back and staring up at a bemused Malfoy, Harry has had enough. 

"God dammit, Draco! That's the problem isn't it? We fight, we fuck, and then it all goes back to 'normal'. But that's just it--this isn't normal! I can't do this anymore. It's--I can't."

Harry feels like his chest is splitting in two, and maybe, he thinks, if Draco can see his beating heart, he'll take pity on him and rip it out. Maybe, if he's lucky--which he usually isn't--maybe if he's lucky, Draco will slice him open and let him bleed out these poisonous thoughts, these emotions like venom in his veins, stopping him from living like he should, living like it doesn't hurt, like this--this _thing_ he has with Draco isn't killing him. Maybe Draco will let him go. 

"Don't be stupid, Potter. We've never been normal. Never..." 

Never, never, never--they haven't, have they? Always bloodied and bruised from fighting, and always bloodied and bruised from fucking. It was all the same. But Draco's lips are at his neck, his tongue leaving trails of saliva in its wake, his teeth scraping against his flesh, and suddenly Harry can't say no, can't loosen his hold on Draco, his fingernails leaving pink welts on Draco's back. And maybe, he thinks, maybe if he makes Draco bleed, maybe Draco will finally understand. Maybe. 

"Potter," Draco's voice is low and desperate in his ear, whispering to him in a voice that kills. "Potter, let me fuck you, let me. Let me make you scream. Let me make you forget your own name. Potter, let me."

And how can he say no? He could never refuse Draco, never. And there it is. Never, never, never.  Never going to stop, never going to end, never going to be happy until we're dead, dead, dead. And Malfoy, well, he's still waiting for an answer isn't he? So Harry gives him what he wants, just like he always does, like he always will, and Malfoy will take, take, take everything because that's what he does. He takes Harry and leaves him empty simply because he _can_. So Harry says yes, because what else can he do? What else is there? There's only ever been Draco, only ever been him. Only him. 

Harry says yes, and please, and more, the words pouring out unbidden from his lips, because he just can't stop, can't get the words to stop falling, can't keep _himself_ from falling, but he knows he's going to hit the ground, and he's going to hit the ground _hard_. 

Because Draco will never catch him. 

__________________******Draco******__________________

The blond felt the sting of short nails digging into his back; he felt Harry’s will slipping away, as though his grip was him trying to catch a hold of it. Draco knew an opportunity when it came to him, and he was desperate to take this one, he’d resort to begging Harry if he had to.

Draco lowered himself letting every inch of his body press against Harry’s, and he let out a few heavy breaths into his ear, causing Harry’s skin to crawl.

“Potter,” Draco started, his voice low and dripping with lust. 

“Potter, let me fuck you,” He moaned into Harry’s ear as he trailed his hand down his stomach.

"Let me," he whispered before taking Harry's ear gently between his teeth while his hand wrapped around Harry's cock and began lazily stroking at it. 

"Let me make you scream," he drawled as he thumbed the head if Harry's cock before working back between Harry's thighs and palming his balls. "Let me make you forget your own name," Draco's voice was like satin as he spoke into Harry's neck between light open mouthed kisses.

"Potter, let me..." He insisted, slowly slipping a finger back inside of Harry.

Harry moaned and bucked into Draco's ministrations, and his brows knit together as if he were in deep concentration. Draco continued gently caressing and kissing waiting for Harry to give some sort of verbal reply.

"Yes," Harry groans.

   
Draco wasted no time lifting Harry's legs onto his shoulders and pushing inside of him as deep as he can get in one motion.

__________________******Harry******__________________

 Harry would like to say their first kiss was romantic. He'd like to say that they had fancied each other enough for it to have evolved into kissing. He'd like to say Draco kissed him beneath the moonlight, sitting by the lake, and it had all been very nice and there had been fireworks and whatnot--except that that, of course, was not the case. Their first kiss had been an accident, of sorts. An accident that happens when the lines blur as the world spins on and on and it makes everything look funny and perfect just for a second. 

See, the way it actually happened, was simple. Well, not really. Nothing with them is ever simple, or _easy_. It happened when they were fighting in the boys' lavatory, their wands discarded somewhere on the flooded bathroom floor. There was water pouring out from a sink that got hit in the crossfire. They'd both resorted to fist fighting, and Malfoy was on top of Harry, suffocating him, skinny fingers wrapped around Harry's throat, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing, his smirking face too close, his expensive cologne permeating the air, making Harry want to vomit. 

Malfoy was talking at him. Telling him that he was disgusting. That he deserved to die by Malfoy's hand. He was a disgrace to Slytherins everywhere. 

"Potter, don't you know you're my bitch? If I say dance, you do a fucking waltz if you must."

And before Harry could do anything, Malfoy was kissing him. It was just like everything else with them,: a battle. It was a struggle for dominance, and when Malfoy loosened his hold on Harry's neck, his fingers tangling in Harry's wild hair, Harry flipped them over, his lips harsh and punishing. Malfoy wouldn't have it, though, his thighs gripping Harry's hips and hauling them sideways until Harry was beneath him once more. His tongue pushed between Harry's lips, prying his mouth open, and forcing Harry to give in.

Malfoy stopped abruptly, pulling away without once glancing at Harry. He stood up and collected his discarded wand from the floor, walking out the door with a smug smile,   
  
"Now dance, Potter," leaving behind a humiliated and bewildered Harry Potter.

 __________________******Draco******__________________  
  
 A steady rhythm had formed between them, Draco rocking his hips in perfect motion, and Harry bucking into him every time. The blond slowed the pace and leaned forward, swiping a few locks of messy hair from Harry's forehead. Draco stared deeply into Harry's lust clouded eyes.  
  
A small smile pulled at his lips as he looked over Harry. His flushed cheeks, and his lips slightly parted, stunning greens eyes half lidded, his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths. Unladen and at ease, desperate and needy.  
  
Everything about him was perfect while he was like this.  
  
Draco dropped his head, lightly pressing his lips to Harry's and then slowly pulling back before gently pressing into Harry's mouth again, repeatedly placing soft kisses on his lips. The blond brought a hand to Harry's face, gently cradling it as he eased his tongue into Harry's lips. Draco took his time exploring Harry's mouth, even letting Harry take control over the kiss.  
  
Never breaking the kiss, holding Harry's hips to guide him, Draco began rolling them over so Harry straddled his lap. Draco let out a deep moan as Harry rocked back allowing the blond to fill him further. The kiss grew more passionate as their tongues intertwined, Harry's fingers laced into Draco's hair and Draco holding Harry's neck. Pulling away, Draco lightly scraped his teeth over Harry's kiss swollen bottom lip.  
  
Harry started placing tender kisses along Draco's sharp jawline, craning his neck to work his way down to the junction of the blond's neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh. Low moans slipped from Draco as his mouth dropped open and he titled his head to the side to allow Harry better access.  
  
This moment was everything that felt so right, so easy. Everything was perfect. Every touch and kiss, every movement brought Draco more pleasure and satisfaction than he'd ever felt from their previous nights together. They were equal. In this moment they _are_ one.  
  
Draco felt his heart skip, and it pounded so loudly in his head he felt as though it would be heard throughout the hall. Why is he enjoying this so much? Relishing in gentle caresses and sweet kisses. Longing for more. Why is he letting Harry Potter do as he pleases?  
  
'What the hell is wrong with me?  This is Potter. Why should _I_ give a damn if _he's_ enjoying himself. Why am I even enjoying this? Why am I being so...nice' Draco thought, becoming more and more irritated at himself. 'This is ridiculous. I don't want to have this connection with him...do I?' He swallowed thickly and his mouth felt suddenly dry, it quickly became hard to breathe. 'No. I don't, not possible. I don't... This can't be happening. He is Harry Potter and I'm Draco Malfoy. I hate him.' His chest began to ache, 'I don't love him. I can't. I _won't_ love him.'

 


End file.
